


Needing Attention

by DreamingMoonlight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, Fuck the Noise out of Anakin Skywalker's Head, M/M, PWP, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 09:17:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10659555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingMoonlight/pseuds/DreamingMoonlight
Summary: Anakin had asked for this.





	Needing Attention

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a conversation with [kasuchans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasuchans/pseuds/kasuchans) and I may have posted this summary on tumblr, but I wanted a proper fic from it. As much as this is "proper fic". :D

Anakin had asked for this--well, not specifically this, but he knew he'd been aggressively pestering Obi-Wan all day, demanding his attention every time Obi-Wan got caught up in reading a report or sparred with Master Fisto or stopped to help the younglings with their class when Master Yoda was teaching them and had called Obi-Wan over. Anakin had grown restless, it had been too long since he and Obi-Wan had been together without something else to pull away their attention--usually a Separtist plot to enslave some other world or a death threat to a Senate member that the Jedi had to take care of or _something_ \--and he'd wanted it _back_.

Obi-Wan hadn't seemed to notice his growing frustration, nothing more than an occasional glance in Anakin's direction when he could feel himself starting to boil over. He was pretty proud of himself for not snapping, he'd done _so_ much better than usual, until they'd wandered back to Obi-Wan's quarters, Anakin trailing after him like a scalefish seeking food.

Then Obi-Wan had turned on him, still casual and serene, but with a speed and grace that left Anakin breathless as he was spun around and tossed face down onto the bed. He could only inhale his Master's scent in the sheets before Obi-Wan himself was on him, one knee landing between Anakin's legs to keep him from going anywhere and Obi-Wan's breath hot on the back of his neck.

"You have been begging for my attention all afternoon, Anakin," he says and presses his weight a little more firmly against Anakin's back. "And now you have it. Do you even know what you want to do with it?"

Oh, a thousand things he wants. But none of them seem to stay in his grasp long enough for Anakin to voice them.

"Please--" he says, a little embarrassed by the whine in his tone, but not so much that it keeps him from arching his hips up, trying to get his ass in contact with Obi-Wan's groin. "I want-- I want--"

He wanted Obi-Wan's attention, but his Master is right. He doesn't know what to do with it now that he has it.

He can feel Obi-Wan pull back from him and wants to whine pathetically, but he has more pride than that. So he forces himself up onto his elbows, tries to look over one shoulder, snapping, "That was hardly much of anything, Mas--"

The words die in his mouth at the way Obi-Wan is looking at him. Anakin forgets sometimes, because his Master is so patient and kind with him, it seems like lately he's only ever had a soft half-smile and warm eyes for Anakin. But now they're laser focused and bright, Obi-Wan's movements as he's pulling his robes and tunics off are smooth and purposeful. Anakin shivers, unable to ignore the looming _something_ that he can feel is coming for him.

"Since you don't seem to know what it is you want," Obi-Wan says, now shirtless and his pants are half undone and Anakin can see the hint of his stirring arousal there, "I'll have to decide for you."

He swallows hard, but doesn't fight when Obi-Wan's hands are beneath him and pulling his own robes apart and off him. Helps him along the way. "I think I know what I want," Anakin manages and even pulls up a solid smirk. It's awkward getting the tunic off at this angle, but they manage with minimal twisting of his arms. He's still pinned to the bed by Obi-Wan's weight against the back of his hips, though.

Obi-Wan doesn't answer, just hums and keeps working on Anakin's pants. Soon they're off and he kicks them to the side, the only barrier left between them are Obi-Wan's Jedi trousers now. They're just rough enough against the inside of his thighs that Anakin has to suppress a shiver.

"I want _you_ ," Anakin says and throws another smirk over his shoulder, twisting onto one elbow so he can see the look on Obi-Wan's face. It doesn't flicker, it's still that look he gets sometimes, when he's serious about something. Anticipation curls in Anakin's stomach, works its way through his limbs in a flush of warmth.

He expects banter, wants to have a bit of a fight before Obi-Wan fucks him and cleans him out of all this restless energy.

But there's none of that, Obi-Wan just plants one hand in the middle of his back and forces Anakin to turn back around, his face shoved back into the sheets that smell like his Master.

Then there's a heavy arm across the back of his hips, low on them, just before the swell of his ass, where Obi-Wan leans enough weight that Anakin would have to truly fight him to get him off. He's not sure what to expect, but it's not the feeling of Obi-Wan's other arm crowding his legs further open to have his Master settle there, certainly not the way a calloused thumb glides down the seam of him and pries one cheek away, exposing him to the cool air.

"What--" is all he can get out before he gasps as Obi-Wan's tongue licks a long line up the line of him, his beard scratching at the sensitive skin there.

"Be quiet," Obi-Wan says lowly right against Anakin's entrance. It's almost a growl and Anakin's mind blanks out at the feeling of how it revererates through him. "You've behaved poorly enough today that now you have my attention and you will take this."

His tongue is warm and wet and twisting right against Anakin, pushing through the ring of muscle there, just enough to open him up, but not nearly enough to get him anywhere. Anakin whines, high in the back of his throat and tries to press back into it, already his cock is hard where it's trapped underneath him.

But the arm pining him to the bed won't let him go anywhere, he can't push back against Obi-Wan's tongue, and when he tries to work a hand underneath to touch himself, he feels the Force grab his wrists and yank them back up in front of him.

"No touching yourself," Obi-Wan orders, hard and unyielding and Anakin has _never_ been so turned on in his life or so frustrated.

Obi-Wan continues to lick him open, his tongue sliding over and over Anakin's hole, winding around the edge of it, then pushing in just enough to send another shiver up his spine, but never, ever enough. And the beard that Obi-Wan probably should have trimmed soon is scratching along the line of him, every dip and long lick takes it across him again, until he knows that he'll be raw and sore by the time this is done.

Yet Obi-Wan still keeps going. Again and again he swipes his tongue over Anakin, sometimes licks from almost the base of his balls all the way up to the small of his back, his beard prickling along the seam of Anakin's ass every inch of the way. He's still held half-open by Obi-Wan's free hand and finds himself wishing that Obi-Wan would use both hands, pry him apart and expose his entrance to the air, so his Master could tongue fuck him more thoroughly.

But he would be able to push back into it then, would be able to angle his hips up into the air when Obi-Wan's tongue slid into him, maybe get some true depth for it, and Obi-Wan won't allow him that.

His cock is so achingly hard against the sheets, trapped there with nothing to touch it but a faint bit of friction that's nowhere near enough. And still Obi-Wan keeps licking him, keeps wriggling his tongue along the muscle there, no matter how many times Anakin's hole flutters in desperate need for more, he never gets it.

His hands clench in the sheets, his left is twisted into a claw and has nearly pulled them off the bed with how hard he's dragged them in from this. His right has shredded through the top sheet and he'll likely tear through the second one soon. He doesn't care, doesn't care at all what Obi-Wan might say, not when he's so desperate to get something in him, not when that hot, wet, squirming tongue won't just fuck him properly.

Anakin can only pant into the sheets, can only twitch his shoulders and kick his legs around his Master, neither of which are any help in getting his entrance speared any further open on that tongue that's still licking him.

The most Obi-Wan will add is to rub his thumb along the edge of Anakin's hole, until he's keening with desperate need, shivering from the sweat beading on his back and shoulders, his hair damp with it and writhing on the sheets as best he can.

Anakin kicks his legs again, trying to get one knee under himself so he can at least heave himself back against the weight Obi-Wan has put over his hips, but both legs keep slipping back down, all he can do is twist them into the sheets, his toes trying for purchase as they curl painfully in from the onslaught of sensation.

It's relentless and Anakin is left contorting himself under it as best he can, but it's never, never enough. As soon as it might be, that _maybe_ he might come from this, Obi-Wan pulls back, pulls out of him and licks a simple line across him again, barely flickering it along the edges any longer.

"Master, _please_ ," he cries, uncaring that tears have welled up in his eyes or that his voice pulls up into a whine at the end. Anything, anything to get enough.

"You wanted my attention, Anakin," his Master says, stopping for a moment and Anakin wants to cry again, any momentum is dissipating away and he can't hold onto it. "You have it now. You'll take this until I can see that you've learned better."

"I have!" Anakin answers desperately. "I promise, Master, I won't ever--"

"You're nowhere near that promise," Obi-Wan says, voice hard. Not cruel, not uncaring, Anakin can feel the weight of his care in the Force and in the way Obi-Wan's thumb still strokes him, but it will not bend and Anakin can only muffle his shout of frustration into the bed covers.

A moment later and Obi-Wan's tongue is back on him, only the one cheek still pried open, so it has to quest forward a little to find where it left off and Anakin nearly weeps from the ache of being denied and the intimacy of such an act.

It's not as though Obi-Wan has never spread him open and tongue fucked him before, but at least then Anakin could roll his hips with it and Obi-Wan would usually use his fingers to help move things along.

There's none of that here, only the wet, winding, looping trail over and over the cleft of him, until Anakin thinks he might actually lose his mind from it. He claws at the bed and whines piteously into the sheets and still tries to get any kind of leverage and is denied every time. Obi-Wan has him pinned perfectly, so that Anakin would have to truly fight him to get him off.

Every full body twitch only seems to encourage Obi-Wan more, each time Anakin jerks violently with another spike of pure arousal, Obi-Wan's tongue finds a tiny new spot to press against and make Anakin clench his hole desperately in an attempt to at least send _himself_ over the edge, if his Master won't.

It's impossible to say how long this torture lasts, Anakin loses all sense of time and any other thoughts in his head but how much he would do _anything_ to get his Master to let him come, to give him just anything more than the continued licking across his entrance.

Anakin sobs into the bed beneath him and perhaps this is what makes his Master finally take pity on the wreck that he's become. "All right, Anakin, I think you've gotten the point."

"Yes!" Anakin agrees with fervor and utter abandon, any pride or fight having long since left him. "Yes, I swear! Please, Master, _please_!"

Obi-Wan's arm lifts off his hips and Anakin could cry with relief, immediately pushing back when Obi-Wan's thumbs wing outwards from the center of him, opening him up fully, and Anakin doesn't care how pathetic he looks as he presses his ass upwards for more contact, not when he can finally work his hand around his cock and--

Immediately, the Force pulls his hand away and Anakin collapses under the sudden loss of it.

"Not that," his Master growls, again right against his hole, so Anakin's cry of frustration is tripled. "Not yet, not until I say."

Anakin swears that he will never needle his Master again, that never will he demand attention when Obi-Wan is busy with someone else, he makes a hundred promises in his head that he would present to his Master, if only he could get any words out, beyond the low whine that he can't stop from pouring out of him.

He can at least grind against the sheets now, he has _some_ friction on his neglected cock, and Obi-Wan's tongue is fucking him more fully now, it's spreading him open and it's still so warm and he can feel how wet he is from the long, long attention, but it's still not enough.

Obi-Wan knows it, Anakin is sure, but he can't get anything out to beg his Master for more, just pushes back against Obi-Wan fucking him shallowly and twisting. Occasionally, he adds a hum to the tongue fucking, which makes Anakin see colors across the backs of his eyelids, but it too never lasts long enough.

He writhes and writhes, torn between pushing his cock down against the bed and back against Obi-Wan's face, his beard still scratching around the rim of his entrance.

It's not until he finally exhausts himself, until he's slumped bonelessly on the bed, unable to maintain such tension in his limbs or do anything more than collapse in an exhausted heap and let Obi-Wan continue to lick at him, that finally his Master seems to have gotten what he wants.

Anakin shoves his face further into the sheets as his Master's fingers begin to explore him, pull him back up to his knees, ass still tilted into the air where Obi-Wan can get a better angle, but now there are fingers curling into him, finding his prostate and rubbing against it, all while Obi-Wan still sucks gently at the muscle stretched around those fingers.

"All right, now you can touch yourself," Obi-Wan murmurs before diving back into him, but Anakin can only mewl softly and shake his head. He doesn't have the strength for it, his hand would only be limp around his cock, no good grip to help him.

Obi-Wan chuckles, another vibration right up Anakin's spine, and he moans into the sheets again.

"I suppose I can help you out then," and Anakin's sorry about the loss of the fingers in him, but so grateful to have someone else's hand on his achingly hard cock, instantly slick from Anakin's precome and the grip strong and perfect and, oh, Obi-Wan's tongue is back in him, beard scraping across raw skin, his hand twisting right over the head of Anakin's cock and that's all it takes.

He comes apart with a sob, so long denied and yet so worth the wait. He's wrung out, there's nothing left, he almost can't even remember why he's here or why it took so long. All he knows is the sheer relief of the explosion in his body, the way his muscles burn from the position and the wait, and his cock is untouchable and his ass throbs.

It's painful, but in the best way, Anakin is no longer a wind-lashed storm, but instead the calm breeze over an open field.

Obi-Wan gently strokes him through his orgasm and Anakin doesn't bother to move from his sprawl across the bed, not even when Obi-Wan pries him open again to clean him up or rolls him over just enough to wipe the front of him down, too.

"There," Obi-Wan says with satisfaction afterwards. Anakin wants to ask about him, doesn't he need something, too? But he can't make the words come out, they too seem to have been wrung out of him. "I trust that you'll remember this next time."

Anakin thinks he makes some sort of agreeing noise, but he's already fading. He can still feel the weight of Obi-Wan's gaze, but it's warm and perfect, like a blanket pulled over him while he drifts off into a restful sleep.


End file.
